


If You Love Me

by themostmarvelousimagines



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avenger Bucky Barnes, Blood and Violence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Murder, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Bucky Barnes, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-04-22 09:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14305365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themostmarvelousimagines/pseuds/themostmarvelousimagines
Summary: Bucky and the reader are sent out on a long-term mission together under the guise of a married couple.





	1. Lovely Weather We're Having

**Author's Note:**

> This lil piece takes place in a universe where Civil War didn't happen and Bucky is living life as an Avenger like the good boy he is. Also, I am totally aware that this has most likely been done before and like everyone does fake marriage and coffee shop shit but Y’KNOW WHAT I’m in control here lol

Driving in a snow storm was terrifying to begin with, but to be driving in a snow storm with Bucky Barnes at the wheel? That’s the stuff nightmares are made of.

It wasn’t that he was a bad driver, necessarily. It was that you were in a foreign country in the middle of a blizzard, and, in Bucky’s own words, his eyes “aren’t what they used to be.” So, yes, you were scared absolutely shitless, and with good reason. All you could think to do was hold on for dear life and pray you made it to your destination in one piece.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” You asked, wincing as the car went over a bump in the road.

“Yes, I know where we’re going,” Bucky sighed, “How many times are you going to ask me that?”

“...I’ve asked you that already?”

“Yes, Y/N. Twice. Three times, now.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Hey,” He said, softening his tone. “We’ll make it there alive, okay?”

“Whatever you say,” You replied. Bucky’s right hand abandoned the wheel to reach over and squeeze your shoulder comfortingly, making your already tense body that much more on edge.

“We’re _fine_ ,” He said, shaking you gently.

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I’d appreciate it more if both of your hands were on the wheel,” You said, shooting him a look.

Laughing, Bucky placed his hand back on the steering wheel and apologized. He was surprisingly calm; a stark contrast to your clearly unsettled state. You’d have thought he was insane to be so collected while driving on icy roads, but knowing the things he’d done, you knew he wasn’t afraid of anything. Maybe that was why he had no problems with the mission.

Tony had come to the conclusion that you and Bucky would be put on a long-term, undercover mission in Romania in an attempt to catch some HYDRA thugs. You’d been trying to catch them for ages now, so when you finally pinpointed their whereabouts, the entire team was ready to spring into action. After discovering that they were set up in a highly populated area, Tony decided that the usual bust-down-the-doors-and-kick-ass approach wasn’t exactly the best idea. So, instead, he sent you and Bucky to someplace you couldn’t pronounce to scope things out. These guys were high-profile and you didn’t want to risk losing them. It would have been easy, if you and Bucky weren’t virtual strangers.

Sure, you worked together and talked just about every day. But outside of work, you never spoke. Neither of you knew anything personal about each other, so you couldn’t believe it when Tony told you that you’d be joining him. Bucky was the obvious first choice for the mission, seeing as he speaks every language in the book, but adding you to the equation just didn’t make sense. You’d hardly ever been on any undercover missions, and you really weren’t the best actor in the world. Stark still didn’t explain to you why he sent you out there other than because, “it would be good for you.”

The plan was simple: you and Bucky would go undercover as newly-married Mr. and Mrs. Lupei. Tony had mapped out your back-story to be eerily specific, much to your dismay. Apparently, during a romantic weekend in Belize, the very wealthy Adam Lupei eloped with an American woman who spoke little to no Romanian. Fast-forward to the present, he was making her dream of owning a small Cafe come true, and they couldn’t be happier.

To say you were pissed at Tony would be the understatement of the century. You were supposed to play the part of a cute housewife who makes coffee and doesn’t speak, while Bucky has to parade around as a rich business man who gave up everything for love. Not only did the story as a whole seem bizarre to you, it made you very uncomfortable to know that you had to pretend to be married to Bucky. You’d be living in a small apartment above the Cafe, together, alone, with no one else around.

It was a recipe for disaster, as far as you were concerned.

When you finally pulled up to the Cafe, nearly all of your muscles were aching from being tense the entire trip from the airport. You were just grateful you could finally let go of the door handle and stretch your fingers. Without missing a beat, Bucky was out of the car and at your door in seconds, opening it for you and extending his hand. You raised an eyebrow at him as he did this, rubbing at your sore knuckles.

“It’s slippery,” He explained, “You’ll crack your head open if you fall and I’d really rather not have your blood on my hands.”

“Such a gentleman, Mr. Lupei,” You said sarcastically, taking his hand and exiting the car as carefully as you could. Once on solid ground, he released you, but watched to make sure you got your footing. You started to take a step and nearly slipped, so you held on to the side of the car while Bucky shot you a look.

“I’m fine,” You said, waving him away and slowly shuffling toward the brick building. You were glad that there was a little side-parking lot next to the building so you didn’t have to park on the street and deal with traffic. As for the weather, it was much colder than it looked- and it looked pretty fucking cold- so you hugged your torso as you walked up to the side door. You pulled on the handle and groaned loudly when it wouldn’t budge.

“Please tell me you have a key or something,” You called out to Bucky, who was busy pulling luggage out of the trunk of the car.

“It’s locked? It shouldn’t be,” He said, carefully making his way around the car to you. You pulled the door again in response.

Bucky stopped, pursed his lips, gave you a pitiful look, and pushed the glass door open.

“...Show off.”

-

Many trips up and down stairs and a metric fuck-ton of bags later, you and Bucky could finally take a moment to relax in your new apartment for the first time. The interior of the building was brick- just like the outside- adorned with expensive furniture that looked incredibly out of place. You could only assume it was furnished by Tony, or someone with similar taste, at least. Regardless, it was a nice place, despite the fact that the Cafe below didn’t match in the slightest. It definitely needed work.

Bucky took a few suitcases over to the other end of the room behind a big, sliding screen door. You, on the other hand, took the opportunity to check out the fully-stocked kitchen. The counters were made of a dark, cool-toned gray wood with cabinets to match. A string of glass bulbs hung on the wall above the sink, where a modestly-sized window overlooked the busy street below. You wandered over to the sink, flipped the faucet handle, and waited for the water to warm up.

“I tried to tell Stark not to do all this crap,” Bucky said as he re-entered the room. “It’s too over the top.”

“Well, you _are_ supposed to be extremely wealthy,” You replied, sticking your hands under the warm water and sighing. A shiver went down your spine as your freezing hands finally heated up, and suddenly the rest of you felt very cold.

“I guess that’s true,” Bucky sighed. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and sauntered around the open living room, taking in the surroundings. “Just seems like too much to me.”

You dried off your hands on a towel and pointed to the giant sliding screen, walking over to it.

“What’s back here?” You asked.

“Bedroom,“ Bucky said simply, too busy examining a porcelain goose to form a full sentence.

Nodding, you slid the door open and peaked inside, your breath catching in your throat at what you saw.

There was a large furnace near one end of the room, right next to a large window that looked out over the parking lot. The same type of glass string-lights in the kitchen hung on every wall in place of a ceiling light. It seemed like that would be a recurring thing. A huge, off-white, fuax-fur rug sat in the center of the room with a small armchair and side table on top of it. A bookcase, a dresser, as well as several gorgeous painting tied the room together. What truly shocked you, however, was the bed.

_Bed._

As in, singular.

As in, you would be sleeping in the same bed. Together. At the same time. Every night.

Bucky entered the bedroom, leaving the sliding door open so it all became one big room. He stood beside you and tapped your shoulder, as if trying to wake you up from sleepwalking. In a way, that’s how you were feeling, with how exhausted you were. At the same time, after seeing the sleeping situation, you felt wide awake. It was a strange sensation, to say the least.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked.

“Nothing!” You said, startled. “Nothing’s wrong, really, I’m great.”

Quirking an eyebrow at you, he folded his arms over his chest and shifted his weight to one leg. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be an undercover agent, you are _really_ bad at lying.”

“I’m not lying,” You scoffed, leaving the ‘bedroom’ to stand in the living room area. Feeling exasperated, you flopped down onto the couch, pulling your feet up onto the cushions. “I’m not upset about anything.”

Bucky looked from you, to the bed, and back to you again.

“Oh. All right, I get it. Stark said he wanted us to, um-” He stopped mid-sentence, chuckled, then went on. “Really get in character.”

You rolled your eyes and fell back into the couch, the soft cushions doing little to support your weight. Staring up at the ceiling, you let your mind wander. What you saw above you was nothing more than bricks with wooden rafters, resembling that of some kind of industrial studio apartment. Now that you really thought about it, that’s exactly what it was; an extremely expensive studio apartment above an average-looking coffee shop in the middle of a busy town in Romania. Not out of place at all, very normal.

It was hard not to wish that this was just your everyday life. That you could wake up every day, live normally, socialize, and be able to call someone like Bucky your husband. You wondered if Stark new that you wanted that kind of life, somehow. Maybe Wanda saw it in your mind at some point and had told him. Regardless, you couldn’t keep yourself from thinking about how wonderful things would be if you were a regular person living a regular life. Sure, you loved the life of a super-hero, but...

As you daydreamed, Bucky said something behind you that you didn’t quite hear.

“Hm?” You asked, sitting up and looking over at him. He was shirtless, folding clothes on the bed and looking at you with those soft blue doe-eyes of his.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He repeated.

“I- yeah,” You managed, “Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“You’re just being awfully quiet,” He said with a half smile, “It’s the quietest I’ve ever seen you.”

“Sorry,” You said, crossing your legs on the couch. “I guess I’m just still trying to process everything.”

“Me too,” He agreed, “It’ll take some getting used to.”

Bucky placed another neatly folded shirt in the pile he’d been building and ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep, drawn-out breath through his mouth. His eyes looked distant and he was staring at nothing, clenching and unclenching his jaw. You couldn’t help but wonder what was on his mind.

“Are _you_ okay?” You asked, standing from the couch and making your way over to him. You sat on the edge of the bed- careful not to mess up his handiwork with the clothes- and did your best to keep your eyes off of his bare chest.

“It’s just the weather,” He answered, “It reminds me too much of Siberia. It was a lot like this.”

“What’s in Siberia?” You questioned, then immediately regretted doing so when Bucky lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry, you don’t have to-”

He held up his hand to stop you and offered a small smile. “It’s okay,” He said, “It’s probably best not to keep secrets from my wife, right?”

You swallowed hard and your body stiffened. “Right.”

He chuckled, licked his lips, then went on.

“Siberia was were HYDRA kept me,” He explained, “For as long as I can remember, that’s where I was. They’d send me other places to... do what I did, but for the most part, I just remember the snow and the cold.”

“And now you associate the weather with HYDRA,” You said, putting the pieces together. He nodded, smiling sadly. Your heart thumped hard against your chest once and you felt your stomach drop at the sight of him. All you wanted to do was reach out and take him into your arms, but you held yourself back.

“I’m hoping I can start making better memories in the cold,” He said, “Maybe it’ll help me forget.”

You nodded and toyed with the sleeve of your shirt, trying to decide what to say, if anything. It was going to be hard, opening up to each other, but you knew you had to if you wanted the mission to go well. If Bucky could tell you something so personal, then maybe it was your turn to let him into what went on in your life, while putting a positive spin on things at the same time.

“I kind of like the snow,” You said, shrugging. “It reminds me of my childhood.”

Bucky perked up at that. “Your childhood? Why’s that?”

“I mean, I used to love building snowmen and having snowball fights,” You said, smiling at the memories. “It reminds me of Christmas morning.”

“Guess I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Bucky admitted, “It’s been so long since I’ve thought about anything even close to Christmas morning. God, I can’t even remember the last time I celebrated it.”

“Well, we’ll probably be here long enough to spend Christmas together,” You said in a light-hearted tone, “So you have that to look forward to.”

“I’ll call Stark, have him install a fireplace,” He chuckled, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees. “We’ll have to find a tree, decorate the shop...”

You smiled and listened to him ramble on about plans for the holidays. As if you had sparked a part of his brain that hadn’t been active in quite some time, he started remembering things from his own childhood; from awkward Christmas Dinners at his Great Aunt’s house to the time he and Steve built a massive snow fort together. It was a different side of him and you really didn’t mind it in the slightest. All it took to get past his rough exterior was a little bit of positivity, and you were happy to be the one to do it.

You were a married couple now, after all.


	2. New Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and the reader encounter several new faces, none of which Bucky is particularly fond of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I actually followed through with a series for once! Here's the second chapter :-)

The weeks following your arrival in Romania were hectic, but that was to be expected. You and Bucky were spies, not baristas. Being a spy, in comparison to owning a Cafe, seemed like a cake walk. You caught bad guys for a living; making Caramel Macchiatos wasn’t exactly on your list of specialized skills.

Thankfully, things started to slowly become easier, and you ended up with a few regulars at the Cafe. Several elderly folk, two different groups of teenagers (who seriously had a thing for Bucky), and one man who seemed to be in his mid-thirties. Very few of them spoke English, so Bucky did most of the talking when it came to socializing, as well as taking orders. For the most part, you just made coffee and heated up croissants. Overall, it could have been much worse.

Even if you couldn’t speak Romanian, it was painfully obvious that people hit on Bucky a lot of the time. It didn’t matter who they were, how old they were, or even their gender; he was almost always blushing or waving away compliments. You didn’t see much harm in it. In fact, you thought it was kind of nice to see Bucky being shown affection after living without it for so long. The only issue with it was that it brought a lot of attention to him, which could be bad for the mission. For now, however, you were just fine with watching him awkwardly laugh off being flirted with by anyone and everyone. 

When someone came into the shop to show you the same kind of attention, however, you were both thrown off.

It was a clear morning after a night of storming, so the snow outside was blinding against the sunshine. You were happy to finally have some weather that wasn’t all gray and white, so you were in a particularly good mood. Bucky was busy chatting away with Mrs. Peters- one of the elderly regulars who was particularly talkative- when a stranger waltzed into the Cafe.

“Good morning,” He said as he approached the counter. He was tall, maybe even taller than Bucky, with long, silver-blond hair and deep brown eyes. From the sharp jawline to the clean suit he wore, he was physically very attractive. However, this wasn’t what shocked you. What really caught you off guard was that he was speaking English to you, which had never happened in the past. Not only that, he had a sort of British accent as well. It was certainly a first all around.

“Good morning,” You replied kindly, “What can I get for you?”

“Just a black coffee, if that’s alright,” He answered, squinting up at the menu above you.

“Sure,” You said, “Is that all for you today?”

He nodded, you gave him his total, and he paid for the coffee. As you put his order together, he wandered around the front of the shop, admiring the artwork and running his hands over one of the brown leather couches.

“It’s lovely, this place,” He said to you when you handed him his coffee, “I don’t think I remember seeing it last time I was in town. How long have you been here?”

“Almost a month,” You answered, “Not very long.”

“That explains it then,” He chuckled, sipping his drink. “I’d have remembered a face like yours if I’d seen it before. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a city like this?”

“Well, my husband and I moved here recently,” You said, making a point to mention Bucky. “I’ve always wanted to have a place like this, so...”

“I see,” The man replied, “And your husband, what’s he like?”

“He’s fantastic,” Bucky interrupted as he walked up to the counter. “Real charmer.”

The man laughed and outstretched his hand to Bucky. “Humble as well, it seems. Does he have a name?”

Bucky shook the man’s hand, his grip firm. You stood there uncomfortably, praying for someone else to enter the shop and interrupt the awkward encounter, but you had no such luck. Maybe Mrs. Peters would try to butt-in and save you.

“Adam,” Bucky answered as he shook the mans hand. For a moment you were confused, until you remembered that he was using his fake name.

“So nice to meet you, Adam,” The man said, “And your wife, as well.”

“And what would the man hitting on my lovely wife like me to call him?” Bucky asked, his tone slightly threatening.

“Sammy,” He replied with confidence, “You’ll have to forgive me. I didn’t see a ring.”

Your stomach dropped onto the floor. How could you have forgotten to wear rings? You immediately started to think of excuses or reasoning, but Bucky beat you to it. He was a lot better at improvising than you were, in truth.

“They get in the way of work,” He explained, “I wouldn’t want her dropping it in the coffee pot.”

“Of course,” Sammy nodded, “Again, I apologize.”

Bucky merely gave Sammy a smile that appeared less-than-sincere, then crossed to the other side of the counter where he planted a kiss to your cheek. After having been “married” for several weeks, this wasn’t the first time he’d done it, so you knew how to react by now. At first, all you could do was blush and try not to trip over your own feet standing still. Now, on the other hand, you’d mastered the sweet, embarrassed smile, and the “oh, stop it you” eyes.

Sammy bid you both goodbye and left the shop. He didn’t seem even slightly frightened by Bucky or his dominating appearance, which had been dulled down significantly by his delicate low-bun and sand colored sweater. Even if he looked quite soft, he was still very intimidating, but not to Sammy- or so it seemed. You weren’t sure if you should have been concerned about it or not. After all, Sammy had no idea that “Adam” was really the world’s deadliest assassin, but hopefully he wouldn’t have to find out.

For the rest of the day, Bucky seemed very different. He didn’t speak much and hardly interacted with the customers. Part of you wanted to ask if he was all right, but you figured you would save it until after you’d closed for the day. So, when the last of your customers had left and you could finally head back up to the apartment, you found yourself a bit uneasy about talking to Bucky about how he was feeling.

“It was pretty busy today,” You said, removing your shoes as you walked through the front door. “Must be the weather.”

“Most likely,” Bucky replied. He was already sprawled out on the couch, one leg hanging over the back of it. Frowning at the fact that he was still wearing his shoes on the nice sofa, you walked over and tapped his foot.

“No shoes on the couch,” You said, sounding very mother-like. Bucky chuckled at this and took off his shoes, tossing them to the side.

“Happy?” He asked, resuming his previous position.

“Yes, thank you,” You said as you sat on the other end of the couch. Bucky grabbed one of the decorative pillows and propped his head up with it so he could look at you. After such a long day, all you really wanted was to put your feet up and relax, but you had a feeling the ‘relax’ part wasn’t going to happen, considering the events of that afternoon with Sammy.

“You were kind of quiet today,” You said, your tone timid.

“After that Sammy guy came in,” Bucky sighed, “I just didn’t feel... right.”

“He seemed nice enough to me,” You said with a shrug.

Bucky held his breath and turned his head away. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You drew your eyebrows together and looked over at him, noticing how he had his hand balled into a tight fist as it rested on his stomach. When he’d spoken, his voice was low, almost as if he didn’t actually want you to hear him. Realizing that he’d only been being protective of you, butterflies erupted in your stomach and you reacted to it physically, sitting up straight and swallowing hard.

“You know that if he was a problem, I would have handled it,” You said, “Right?”

“He was being a problem, Y/N,” Bucky said impatiently, “And you weren’t handling it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, chuckling.

“Look,” Bucky started, sitting up and giving you a stern look. “I get that we’re not actually married, but you can’t just let some stranger flirt with you like it’s not a big deal.”

“You mean like you do?” You countered, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Mrs. Peters does not count, she’s like, 80.”

“Damn, that’s even worse. Preying on younger women? That’s kinda gross, Buck.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky breathed, standing up from the couch. “Y/N, the people I talk to are harmless. They’re teenagers and old women. That guy could have been HYDRA and we wouldn’t have known it.”

“You seriously don’t think HYDRA wouldn’t have teenagers working for them?” You scoffed, “Isn’t everyone a suspect?”

He shook his head and left the room, walking behind the screen to the bedroom and closing it behind him. Angry that he would just abandon the conversation, you followed after him, yanking the screen back to reveal him removing his sweater and throwing it into the nearby hamper. Though you were distracted by his bare shoulders, you weren’t about to let him walk away from you like that.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You asked, annoyed.

“Drop it, Y/N,” He warned, pulling on a t-shirt and letting his hair down.

“No, I won’t drop it,” You said, “I’m not done talking about this.”

“Well, I am,” He said simply.

It took everything in your power to not completely blow up. What, was he just hell-bent on pushing your buttons? That’s sure what it felt like to you. You all but stomped over to him and forced him to turn and face you, your irritation written all over your face. Reacting quickly, he grabbed your wrist tightly and got within three inches of your face, his eyes showing that he was just as upset as you were. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t scare you.

“I told you to drop it,” He hissed.

“And I told you no,” You said back with just as much malice.

“Y/N, I mean it,” He said, “I’m not having this conversation.”

“Why not?” You asked, “What the hell are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything, I’m-”

Below you, a loud crash echoed from the Cafe, making both of you jump. You exchanged knowing looks and he released your wrist, which throbbed when he let go. Without missing a beat, the both of you rushed out the door and down to the shop. The sun had gone down and, since you’d closed for the night, the entire place was dark, so you couldn’t see a thing.

After entering the Cafe slowly, Bucky pulled out the knife that was hidden under the counter, then handed it to you. Another crash like the first filled the air, originating from the back room, and you both stiffened. Carefully, you tiptoed toward the sound, knife at the ready. You and Bucky both stood on opposite sides of the door to the back, and after a nod, he opened the door and you rushed in, prepared for the worst.

But there was nothing there.

Confused, you dropped your hands to your sides and turned back to Bucky.

“There’s no one there,” You said.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded.

He pushed past you and entered the small room, flipping on the light in the process. Now that you could see, you finally noticed the several metal bowls that were scattered around on the floor, as well as the empty space on the storage shelf. Bucky sighed and picked up the bowls and went to place them back on the shelf when a cat darted out from behind a box, swatting at his hand. He shouted once and dropped the bowls, wincing as they crashed to the floor.

“Aw, it was just a little cat!” You exclaimed, approaching the animal excitedly and holding out your hand to it.

“A little cat that gave me a fucking heart attack,” Bucky said, grasping his chest.

“Hi, little guy,” You said sweetly to the cat, “How did you get in here?”

The cat sniffed your hand several times before running the side of its face over your wrist. You gasped and made a tiny squealing noise, to which Bucky groaned.

“He can’t stay in here, Y/N,” Bucky said, “He got into the pistachios.”

“You’re right,” You agreed, “I’ll call him Pistachio, and I guess he’ll just have to stay upstairs.”

“That’s not what I-”

“Come on, buddy,” You said, picking up the cat carefully.

Bucky stammered out his disapproval and you ignored him, cradling the animal and making your way back up to the apartment. Pistachio mewed in your arms and you stroked his peach-colored fur lovingly. As you walked up the stairs, Bucky followed right behind you, going on and on about how Stark would lose his mind if the cat tore up the nice furniture, but you hardly listened. You simply carried your new friend into the apartment and made plans in your head to go out the next day and get everything you’d need to take care of him.

Not such a bad day in the end, you supposed.


	3. Waiting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky embarks on a solo mission, leaving the reader behind at the apartment. Too worried about Bucky to sit around, she goes for a late-night walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a lot darker than the other previous chapters, so beware!

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Bucky shook his head and shoved a sixth- you’d been counting as he packed- knife into his duffel bag. “I’ve got it. I need you here to make sure nothing happens to the apartment... or your cat.”

“ _Our_ cat,” You corrected, pulling Pistachio into your lap and giving Bucky a very offended look.

“Sure,” He replied, rolling his eyes and zipping up his bag. “Whatever. Either way, I can handle it on my own.”

“What if you get caught?” You asked.

He shot you a smirk. “I never get caught.”

Despite the confidence in his voice, you were not convinced. Even if you knew he could stalk HYDRA agents on his own, it didn’t stave off the growing anxiety in your chest or the sick feeling in your gut. Something about the entire mission seemed... wrong. He’d insisted he go alone, and you weren’t happy about it, but there wasn’t much you could do to make him change his mind. So, you would stay behind, even if you didn’t want to.

“I’m not sure about this, Bucky,” You said, “I have a really bad feeling that it’s going to go wrong.”

Nodding, Bucky placed his bag on the floor and crossed the room to where you sat on the couch. He knelt down in front of you, patting Pistachio on the top of his head and looking up at you. His eyes were soft and something lurked behind them that you couldn’t quite identify. Whatever it was, it made your heart thump like a drum in your chest.

“Y/N, everything is going to be fine,” He said comfortingly, “This is one of the easiest mission I’ve ever been on. They won’t catch me, and I need to get some kind of intel so Stark will get off my back.”

“I know,” You said with a sigh, “I just don’t like the idea of you going by yourself. Something might happen to you.”

“So, what, you actually care about me now?” Bucky asked, his tone light and a small laugh laced with his words.

“I’ve always cared about you, Bucky,” You replied, shocked at your own honesty. It just slipped out, and you couldn’t stop yourself before it was too late. The both of you seemed caught off guard by this; Bucky’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat while you averted your gaze down to the cat in your lap, praying your embarrassment didn’t show on your face.

“I won’t be gone long,” He said, standing up. “Just... make sure your- _our_ cat doesn’t rip holes in the couch.”

“I don’t control Pistachio,” You replied, “He’s a free spirit.”

“More like a loose canon.”

-

Bucky had only been gone about an hour and you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. You’d worried yourself sick, to the point where you had almost zero energy. All you could do was lie in bed and silently lose your mind while Bucky was out there doing god knows what. What if they caught him? What if it was all a set up? A million bad thoughts raced through your mind and each passing second became more agonizing than the last. You wished you’d fought harder to go with him.

Even though Bucky asked you to stay back and keep watch over the cat and the apartment, you couldn’t just wait around for something bad to happen. So, despite his wishes, you opted for a late night walk in place of laying around and letting your thoughts torment you. While no sane person would ever consider walking around this late at night alone, you’d definitely done worse, given your profession. A midnight walk paled in comparison to some of the missions you’d been on. Not only that, if something were to happen, you knew you could handle it yourself.

Thankfully, it wasn’t snowing, but you did still wear your heavy coat just in case. It was late enough that the streets were relatively vacant, but not too late to the point where you were completely alone. You figured it would be good to get a feel of the surrounding neighborhood. There couldn’t be any harm in that, could there?

After wandering around for a while, you found yourself sitting on a bench beside the uncharacteristically quiet street, your mind still running wild. Your leg began to bounce in time with your racing heart as you became lost in thought. Sighing heavily, you mentally kicked yourself for thinking that going outside would do anything to help your anxiety. Now you were worried and cold. As you cursed yourself in your mind, you waited a few more minutes before finally deciding to head home.

As you walked back, light snow began to fall from the sky, layering the streets in a thin blanket of white that shimmered under the streetlamps. You silently thanked the gods that you thought to wear your coat and kept on your way, thoughts of home keeping you moving. As much as the air burned your cheeks and the tip of your nose, it was still a nice night for a walk. Not like you had anything else to do, you thought.

You walked quickly past a dark alleyway, careful not to slip on the sidewalk as you did. About thirty seconds later, the sound of footsteps coming to a quick halt behind you made you turn abruptly, hand on your pocket knife. On the ground just beside the corner of the alleyway, a large portion of the snow had been disturbed, like someone had slipped and fallen. It wasn’t too far from where your own foot prints sat in the snow, which sent a harsh chill down your spine. Very carefully, you tiptoed toward the spot, keeping your guard high.

When you glanced down the alley, you half expected to get jumped; but nothing was there other than a toppled over trash can.

Letting out a tense sigh, you flipped your knife closed and placed it back in your pocket, then finished the trek back home. Upon walking in the front door, Pistachio greeted you by circling your legs and letting out very needy mews. You crouched down and scratched him behind the ears, mumbling something about him being “a handsome little kitty” in a baby-ish voice. You were interrupted, however, when the door to the bedroom slid open, startling you.

Before you could even get up off the floor, Bucky was already closing the door behind him. It should have been a relief to see that it was only him, but it was anything but. His gray t-shirt had a large red splatter running from the hem to the collar, where it continued up his neck. Several splotches were scattered all over his arms, hands, and face. He looked like something straight out of a horror film.

“What happened to you?” You asked, standing. Bucky ignored you- walking straight to the bathroom with a small pile of folded clothes in his arms. Confused, you waited for a minute or two until you heard the shower running. You tried your best to brush off his complacent behavior and blood-coated figure and carried Pistachio with you to the bedroom, removing your clothes and snow boots once the door was shut. After putting on your comfiest clothes, you curled up on the bed with Pistachio- who was very vocal about his contempt for being left alone.

Fifteen minutes later, Bucky returned, hair still damp from his shower. He had a manila folder in his hands that looked like it was filled with several papers and photos. Without saying a word to you, he sat in the armchair in the center of the room and flipped through the pages silently.

“How did it go?” You asked. You debated bringing up the blood, but figured he would tell you eventually.

“Fine.”

“Were there a lot of people?”

“Not really. Just five.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“Where the hell were you?”

You sat up, staring at the back of the armchair. “I went for a walk.”

“I asked you to stay here,” Bucky said, his tone flat.

“I was worried,” You said, “I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing.”

Bucky sighed and stood, closing the folder and slapping it down onto the side table next to the chair. “Y/N, you compromised my mission.”

Your stomach dropped.

“I... _what?_ ” You asked, quickly jumping up from the bed and crossing the room to him. He had a grim look on his face that made your insides shrink.

Bucky stopped glowering down at you to pick up the folder again, pluck a photo from it, and shove it into your hands. When you looked down at it, you saw a familiar face that shook you to the core. The face you were so positive didn’t pose a real threat.

“Your little friend followed you home,” Bucky said, inches from your face. “Sammy was one of them, Y/N. He was trying to kill you.”

Your already churning stomach lurched forward at his words, and you had to physically stop yourself from being sick.

“You’re damn lucky I got him before he got you,” He went on, “He left their compound by himself and I followed him. Then he saw you and followed you for almost ten minutes before I caught him. From what he told me, he didn’t know who we were. He just recognized you while you were out walking around by yourself.”

“Where is he now?” You asked in a timid voice, though you were pretty sure you already knew the answer.

“The lake outside of town,” Bucky answered, his tone eerily calm. “Where he belongs.”

“Bucky, I-”

“Dammit, Y/N. I asked you to stay here and you didn’t listen,” Bucky interrupted, slamming the folder back onto the table. “You almost got yourself killed because you can’t control your impulses.”

“You forced me to stay here _alone!_ ” You shouted, tossing the photo to the floor. “If you would just get over this weird lone-wolf shit, none of this would have happened. We’re partners whether you like it or not.”

“You think this is my fault?” He asked, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Look, I get it, okay?” You continued, “You’re used to working by yourself. But Tony made me come here with you for a reason, and it wasn’t to look pretty, make coffee, and act like your stupid housewife.”

“Y/N, you can’t act like what you did was excusable,” Bucky said angrily, “I had to kill him to save you. I just put the entire mission in jeopardy. The rest of them will figure out he’s gone eventually, and they’ll look for whoever killed him. Why couldn’t you just listen to me?”

“Because while you were out there doing what we were _both_ sent here to do, I was stuck here by myself,” You said, slowly raising your voice as you spoke. “Do you seriously think I can’t handle these kinds of things on my own? Do you really think that little of me? What the hell did I do to make you believe I can’t take care of myself?”

Bucky sighed impatiently and turned away from you, running his hands through his damp hair. “Stark was wrong about sending you here.”

His words hung heavily on your already weighted heart, causing the whole thing to drop into your stomach like a rock. A lump formed in your throat, and you tried to think of something to say, but words just wouldn’t come to you. Your entire body felt like it was made of stone. Picking up a jacket off the floor, Bucky slung it over his shoulder and made his way out of the bedroom, opening the sliding door and standing there for a moment to take a deep breath.

“Good night, Y/N,” He said, his tone still harsh.

The door slid closed behind him and you waited until you heard the door to the stairs slam shut before completely falling apart. You sat on the edge of the bed and hung your head in your hands, letting frustrated tears flow freely until you couldn’t sit up any longer.

You didn’t know when your body finally caved to exhaustion, but before you knew it, light was creeping in from the windows and was shining directly onto your eyelids. You groaned at the rude awakening, turning onto your other side and letting out a long yawn. Pistachio was curled up near your feet, keeping your toes comfortably warm. Had it not been for the lingering pain in your chest, it would have been a nice way to wake up.

A few minutes passed, and you ignored the sound of the bedroom door sliding open and closed, as well as the footsteps that approached the bed. You simply stayed where you were, intent on ignoring Bucky. The bed dipped behind you, making you keenly aware of his close proximity. You shifted under the covers to get more comfortable, then felt a warm hand gently move your hair to the side, exposing your ear. His hand slowly stroked your hair several times and you tried not to think much of it.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Bucky said softly, “And for what it’s worth, I care about you too.”


	4. A Little Sympathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and the reader work things out, only for something else to go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very tired while writing + proofreading this so if you find something that doesn't look right pls let me know lol I can't be bothered apparently.

“We need to talk.”

The four dreaded words. Four words that held so much weight, you could bench-press them, and not easily. The words rang in your ears, echoing several times before Bucky had to wave his hand in front of your face to get your attention again.

“Did you hear what I said?” He asked.

“I heard you,” You replied, hiding the anxiety in your voice.

Bucky nodded and removed his apron, placing it back on its designated wall-hook, then walked around the counter to the front of the Cafe. You removed your own apron and watched as he locked the front doors- giving them a hard tug to make sure they were secure- before turning back around and looking at you. If his previous statement hadn’t been nerve-wracking enough, the look on his face definitely made up for it.

You avoided meeting his gaze, putting your apron away as well as an excuse not to look at him. As you straightened it out on the wall, you heard Bucky’s loud footsteps approach you, but still, you refused to even glance in his direction. You began to absentmindedly fiddle with the material of your apron when you noticed him out of your peripherals.

“We need to talk about last night,” He said, his voice eerily soft.

“I didn’t think there was anything else to say about it,” You said, “You got your point across just fine. Message received.”

He sighed heavily, shifting his weight to one leg and leaning his arm on the wall in front of you. “I talked to Steve this morning.”

“You did?” You asked, quickly turning to look at him.

“I did,” He nodded, “He gave me a lot to think about.”

“That’s kind of vague,” You scoffed as you let your apron slip from your hands.

“I meant for it to be,” Bucky said, a small laugh laced in his voice. “He kind of helped me realize I should apologize.”

“That’s new,” You said, smirking.

“Don’t do that.”

“Just because you’re old enough to be my grandpa doesn’t mean you have a free pass to tell me what to do.”

“Y/N, please. I’m trying to be serious.”

“Okay, okay, fine.”

Bucky gestured with a nod toward a nearby table, patting you once on your back. “Come sit.”

Once the two of you had settled into your chairs, staring at each other from across the table, you clasped your hands in front of you and waited to see if he would speak first. Bucky pulled a hair-tie off of his wrist and put his hair in a hap-hazard bun, then rolled up the sleeves of his navy button-up. Now that you were really looking at him, you finally noticed the deep circles under his bloodshot eyes.

“I’m sorry about what I said last night,” He said, “I told Steve about everything and he thinks I... overreacted.”

“So we’re all on the same page now,” You replied, leaning your elbow against the table and resting your chin in the palm of your hand. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, his jaw clenched and his eyes never leaving yours. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“You don’t seem too happy about it,” You stated.

“Why would I be?” He asked, “I was wrong, Y/N. What else do you want from me?”

Nodding, you pursed your lips together and thought for a few seconds before responding. “I accept your apology.”

“Thank y-”

“But I have some conditions.”

Bucky groaned loudly and threw his head back dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course you do. This is so you, Y/N.”

“Do you want to hear them or not?” You asked, leaning back in your seat and folding your arms over your chest.

“Please, the suspense is killing me,” He responded sarcastically.

“No more of this ‘I’m protecting you’ bullshit. You know I can do that myself,” You said, “You don’t have to keep me safe from anything.”

“Okay,” He sighed, “I can do that.”

“And Pistachio gets to stay.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Y/N. The cat? Are you serious?”

“Deal?”

Chuckling, he shook his head and mirrored your folded arms. “Deal. But only if he starts paying rent.”

“He pays with his love and affection,” You said with a smile, “I feel like that’s good enough.”

“If it’s really that important to you,” He said, standing. “Pistachio can stay.”

You stood as well, promptly circling your arms around his torso and squeezing tightly. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome,” He said, letting out a strained laugh and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “I’m gonna head up to bed, okay?”

“Okay,” You replied, releasing him from your death-grip. “Check on our son when you go up there.”

“Our son? So, what, the cat gets to stay and now you think he’s your baby?”

“Are you implying that he’s not my baby?”

Laughing lightly, Bucky made his way over to the stairs that led to the apartment. “I’ll check on your orange child.”

You shot him one last grin before he left, the sounds of his bemused laughter echoing down the stairway. With a permanent smile on your face, you began to pick up the Cafe, putting stray dishes in a bin and sweeping up trash. Even while doing such mundane tasks, you couldn’t seem to stop smiling. You were just happy to put the entire ordeal to rest.

Once you’d finished cleaning the shop, you decided to head upstairs and make a warm drink. Pistachio, of course, was curled up on the couch waiting for your return. He mewed softly when you sat beside him and immediately crawled into your lap, nudging your hand with his forehead and nearly making you spill your drink. You smoothed out his fur with your free hand and he settled down, making himself comfortable in your lap while purring up a storm. From the bedroom, you heard a gentle snoring, and your smile from earlier returned.

Sipping your drink, you noticed a manila folder on the coffee table and curiosity overcame you. You set down your cup and plucked the folder from its place on the table, flipped it open, and immediately regretted your decision.

A set of photos of men and one woman were loosely sitting inside, one of which stared back at you menacingly. You swallowed hard and picked up the photo of Sammy, holding it with both hands. You couldn’t help but think back on what Bucky must have done to him. The image of his body sitting at the bottom of a lake crossed your mind and you dropped the picture without a second thought.

You hurriedly closed the folder and placed it back on the table, banishing all thoughts from your mind. Just as you started to pull your legs up on the couch, a loud crashing noise rang through the apartment. It took less than three seconds for you to jump up from the couch, dash across the room, and slide the bedroom door open.

“Bucky?” You called into the dark room, “Are you okay?”

No response.

Adrenaline rushed through your veins like a flash flood. It was impossible to see anything in the dark, so you entered the room and flipped the light switch. The string of lights above the headboard to the bed lit up and you saw Bucky; sitting on the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets like his life depended on it, and his head drooping. His bare back and shoulders rose and fell as the sound of his fevered breathing finally reached your ears.

The lamp that had been on his bedside table was now on the floor in a million and one tiny pieces, which explained the crash. Worry washed over you and you went around the other side of the bed, crawling onto the mattress and reaching out to touch Bucky’s shoulder.

“What happened?” You asked as your hand connected with his burning skin, “Why did you-”

Before you could finished your question, Bucky whipped around, grabbed you by the shoulders, and slammed you down onto the bed. He towered over top of you, taking your wrists in his hands and holding you in place. At first, you were shocked and confused, until you saw the murderous look in his eyes. Upon seeing this, you immediately knew that Bucky was gone and The Winter Soldier had taken his place. That could only spell disaster for you if you didn’t somehow bring Bucky back, fast.

“Bucky, it’s me,” You croaked out, “It’s Y/N. You know me.”

His grip on your wrists began to loosen and he blinked several times. Shaking his head, he squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them wide. You stared up at him with a terrified expression and swallowed hard.

“Y/N?” He asked, “What happened?”

“You broke a lamp and attacked me,” You said shakily, “What the hell happened to you?”

“I don’t know,” He said, his brows drawing together. “I was sleeping, and then... Then I was here.”

He sat up and you followed, pulling your knees up to your chest. You watched him carefully and took several breaths to try and steady your racing heart. After spending a while thinking hard, Bucky shook his head and his shoulders slumped.

“This hasn’t happened in a long time,” He said quietly, “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” You said, rubbing at your sore wrist absentmindedly. “I’m a little more worried about you right now, Bucky.”

He bit his lip and kept his eyes low, avoiding looking at you at all costs. A few moments passed and he still didn’t say anything, so you took the opportunity to scoot closer to him. He dropped his head into his hands and took several shallow breaths, his body shuddering with each one. An overwhelming urge to reach out and hold him began to creep up on you when Bucky began to mutter to himself.

“I’m so sorry,” He mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by his hands. “It’s been so long since this last happened, I didn’t think it would happen again.”

“It’s not your fault,” You said comfortingly, “It wasn’t you.”

Bucky shook his head and dropped his hands into his lap. “That doesn’t make it okay, Y/N.”

Narrowing your eyes, you sat up on your knees and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in to rest his head just beneath your chin. One of your hands rested on the back of his head while the other gently ran over one of his shoulders. His skin was hot to the touch, almost like he had a fever.

“It’s not your fault,” You repeated yourself, emphasizing your words. Very slowly, Bucky settled into the embrace, circling his arms around your middle tightly. You gently combed your fingers through his hair, hoping it would help calm him down. It seemed to work, because after a while, he stopped trembling, and his grip on your waist was starting to loosen.

A few minutes passed until you you managed to get Bucky to lay back down in bed with you. You held his hand as he began to doze, only to have Pistachio wiggle underneath your connected hands and let out a loud meow. Smiling, you scratched behind the cats ears until he laid his head down on top of your hands. You continued to stroke his fur silently, figuring Bucky had fallen asleep by now. He had to have been exhausted, after all.

“What a dysfunctional little family we have, huh buddy?” You whispered to Pistachio, who responded by shutting his eyes.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Bucky said, startling you with his groggy voice. When you looked up at him, he had a small smile on his face and a tired look in his eyes. He had his hair tucked behind one ear, leaving his face exposed. Your heart thumped hard against your chest when your eyes met, and you had to force yourself to look away.

Even with all of your differences and issues, you couldn’t help but wonder if a life with Bucky could work. Thoughts of living together- really living together-plagued your mind for the remainder of the night, bleeding into your dreams and leaving you with a warm feeling in the center of your chest.


	5. Breaking the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky takes the reader out on the town for the first time. Pistachio causes problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been leaving feedback on this series! I'm so glad people are actually reading and enjoying the story, especially when it comes to Pistachio lol. Here's some domestic fluff <3

It had been almost a week since Bucky’s little incident, and things had calmed down significantly. You were on better terms, and Bucky seemed a lot happier than before. It was like having an entirely different person around, and you liked it a lot. Maybe a little more than you should have.

It was a Friday night, which meant you closed early, much to your pleasure. After you closed up shop for the weekend, you and Bucky were lounging in the apartment, eating dinner and chatting away. It was something you did more often now that you weren’t virtual strangers anymore. Cooking dinner- either together or on your own- was a regular occurrence that both of you enjoyed.

“You know,” Bucky said between bites of spaghetti, “It’s a Friday night.”

“Very observant,” You quipped, “What brings this up?”

“Well,” He said, “We’re married, right?”

“Not technically, no, but I know what you mean so go on.”

“Married people go on dates,” He went on, ignoring your comment. “So I think we should go out tonight.”

You nearly choked on your water.

“Mrs. Peters was telling me about this old ice skating rink not too far from here,” He continued, “I think we should check it out.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” You said, standing and walking to the kitchen sink. “I trip over my own feet pretty often, I don’t think adding shoes with knives on them to the equation would be very safe.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Bucky replied, rolling his eyes. “Besides, you deal with knives all the time. You should be able to handle having them on your feet.”

You sighed and placed your dishes in the sink before turning back to face him with a hand on your hip. “You’re not going to stop pestering me about it until we go, are you?”

“You would be correct.”

“Then I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

 

-

 

“This was a bad idea,” You muttered, “Oh god, why did I let you convince me to do this?”

“You’re fine,” Bucky laughed, “Just get out here.”

“I’m gonna fall, Bucky,” You shot back, throwing him a glare.

“You’re not gonna fall,” He said, extending his hand out to you. “I won’t let you. Trust me, okay?”

You clung to the sides of the ice rink wall, gripping it like your life depended on it. Bucky was already on the ice, and had been trying to talk you into joining him for five long minutes. Luckily, the building was mostly empty aside from the two of you and a group of kids, so you didn’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of a crowd.

Just Bucky.

“Y/N, you’ve done scarier things than this,” Bucky said, “You’ve got this.”

“How is it so easy for you?” You asked, touching the ice with the tip of the blade on your skate. “You make it look so easy.”

“It is easy,” He said, “But you have to get on the ice.”

Sighing, you hesitantly reached out and took his hand, locking his fingers with yours in a firm grip. You took a deep breath and put one foot on the ice, then the other.

“See? I told you, you’re fine,” Bucky said, reaching out and placing his free hand on your waist to steady you. “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t feel fine,” You replied, focusing on keeping your footing while the two of you slowly slid out onto the ice.

“Just don’t think about it,” He said while flashing you a smile, “It’ll get easier the longer you’re out here.”

“How do you know how to do this?” You asked.

“Ice skating existed when I was a teenager, Y/N,” He answered, “So did swing dancing. But it’s probably best not to do them both at the same time.”

“Yeah, please don’t,” You laughed nervously.

“I can teach you that another time,” Bucky said with a wink.

The night was spent skating around at a snails pace. You stayed as close to the wall as you could, just in case. Bucky was surprisingly helpful; holding your hand and catching you every time you nearly fell on your face. When you weren’t busy trying to stay upright, you talked with Bucky about anything you could think of to keep your mind occupied. You told him about something funny Pistachio had done the other day, and about an old man who left you a $10 tip, and what it was like becoming an agent for SHIELD. It didn’t take long for you to start enjoying yourself. Even though you still couldn’t figure out how to ice skate properly, you were glad Bucky was there to make it fun.

As the night wound down and you left the skating rink, you found yourself feeling suddenly very drawn to Bucky. The thoughts from the night he had his incident returned to your mind and you couldn’t seem to stave them off. It certainly didn’t help that you’d spent almost two hours in close proximity with him. It was the first time you noticed he wore cologne, and you wondered if he’d always worn it and you just never realized, or if he’d worn it just this once. Either way, the warm smell was stuck in your nose the entire night.

“Did you and Steve ever go ice skating together?” You asked on the walk back to the apartment.

“Once,” Bucky said, half smiling. “He wasn’t as good at is as he thought he’d be. I think he had fun though.”

“Maybe you should ask him if he remembers,” You said.

“He remembers a lot of things,” He sighed, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “Just never anything important.”

“Like names and birthdays?”

“Exactly like names and birthdays.”

You shared a small laugh and continued on your way home through the barren streets. The cold air was starting to get to you, so you shivered once and wrapped your arms tightly around your torso. Bucky slipped his arm around your shoulders and ran his hand over your upper arm in an attempt to warm you up a bit more. You instinctively moved closer to him, shivering again at the heat coming off of his body. Down the street, you noticed a group of people huddled outside of a bar, but they didn’t seem like they were having a very good time. 

“Stay close to me,” Bucky said, his voice low and his tone serious. “Don’t look at them, act like they’re not even there.”

You nodded and looked down at the sidewalk below, clearing your throat as you got closer to the group.

“I talked to Mrs. Peters today,” Bucky said, his voice having returned to normal. “She thinks we should go out with her to dinner sometime.”

“That would be fun,” You replied, “She’s really sweet.”

“She is,” He said, “She talks about you a lot, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

The two of you exchanged smiles as you passed the silent circle of people, and you did everything you could to ignore their presence. You found it strange that they would just stand around doing nothing, which must have been what Bucky was thinking as well. Once you knew they were out of earshot, you let out a tense breath.

“That was weird,” You whispered, looking up at Bucky.

“Tell me about it,” He whispered back.

Not before long you made it home, where Pistachio was waiting impatiently on the countertop in the kitchen. Still feeling uneasy from seeing the strangers outside of the bar, you picked up the cat and held him close to your body, letting him nuzzle your neck and chin. You kissed his forehead and carried him to the bedroom where you removed your heavy winter clothes and put on your favorite sleepwear. Bucky shouted something about taking a shower as you crawled into bed. You laid there with Pistachio on your chest for a long time, talking to him like he could understand you.

“What do you think, buddy?” You whispered to Pistachio, “Do you think I’m paranoid about those guys from earlier?”

He blinked.

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that,” You sighed, patting his forehead. “Why can’t you ever take my side?”

He yawned.

“Sure, sure. Ignore me. I see how it is. You always do this.”

“Are you talking to the cat?”

Bucky sauntered into the room, now dressed in loose sweatpants and a painfully tight crimson t-shirt. As he approached your side of the bed, you looked up at him from under your eyelashes and pursed your lips together, stroking Pistachio lovingly.

“No,” You answered in a guilty voice, “I am not... talking... to the cat.”

“Was she talking to you?” Bucky asked Pistachio, “Tell me the truth.”

“He pleads the fifth.”

“Now you’re talking _for_ the cat. You two have such a weird relationship.”

You glared at Bucky playfully and he laughed, patting Pistachio once before walking around the bed and crawling in beside you. He laid on his side, his forehead touching your shoulder and his wet hair dripping on your skin.

“Why don’t you dry your hair enough?” You asked, brushing his hair off of you. “Do you not know how to use a towel?”

“Oh, I do,” He said, glancing up at you. “They’re just all covered in cat hair.”

“Please go dry your hair. You’re getting the pillows wet,” You whined, trying to push his head away.

“What, you don’t like damp pillows?” He asked with a small laugh.

“No, I really don’t,” You replied, “Don’t make me ask again.”

“What do you have against my wet hair?” He asked, his tone very lighthearted. He sat up and moved over top of you, making Pistachio jump down from the bed as he placed his hands on either side of you. His body was dangerously close to yours, but you were too busy swatting his hair away from your face to notice.

“You don’t like wet hair?” Bucky asked again, shaking his head slightly and sending tiny droplets of water all over your face.

“Oh my god, what is wrong with you!” You tried to push him off of you, which only made him move closer, basically shoving his head against your cheek. Laughter filled the room as you tried to fight him off, with little success. It took you begging through your laughing to get him to stop. He tucked his hair behind his ears and looked down at you, still grinning like an idiot.

Your eyes connected and the atmosphere changed in a matter of seconds. As you both calmed your breathing, you stared at each other, almost like you were both thinking the same thing but not saying it aloud. You wondered if that was the case, or if it was just wishful thinking. All you knew for sure was that you wanted to kiss him right then and there.

“Can I tell you something?” Bucky asked in a whispered voice. 

“Um, yeah,” You replied. In your head, you began to panic. His features were softer than you’d ever seen them, and the look in his eyes was unfamiliar. The room was dark aside from a single string of lights opposite the bed, making the contours of his face stand out.

“I think maybe-” He hesitated, “I don’t know. I was just thinking that-”

Before he could finish, Pistachio wormed his way between you, meowing and rubbing his face against Bucky’s nose. This caught you both off guard, making you jump and separate.

“Pistachio, you little shit,” You said, prying the cat off of your chest and setting him aside. Bucky retreated as well, going back to his side of the bed and lying down. His smile had returned while he watched you quietly scold the cat.

“Not everything is about you,” You muttered to Pistachio, who responded by flopping onto his side and looking up at you with his big green eyes. Why did he have to be so cute?

“I think that’s his way of saying he disagrees,” Bucky chuckled beside you.

Scoffing, you rolled onto your side to face Bucky while Pistachio curled up in the space in front of your stomach. “He’s such a spoiled baby.”

“You wanted him.”

“Would it kill you to be at least a _little_ supportive, Bucky?”

“How do you think I’ve lived this long? By being nice? HYDRA didn’t kidnap me because they thought I was a decent person.”

You rolled your eyes and nudged him playfully. “You _are_ a decent person.”

“I’m barely even a person,” He replied, shooting you a smirk. 

“You’re at least 75% person,” You argued while reaching out and tapping his metal arm with your fingertips. “Just because you’re 25% Terminator doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”

“The hell’s a Terminator?”

“Forget it. Just go to sleep.”

“Fine,” He said, sitting up on his elbows and leaning closer to you. As you started to wonder what he was doing, his lips pressed against your forehead, lingering there for a moment before he pulled away and looked you in the eye. “Goodnight, Y/N.”


End file.
